


AHOY MATEYS! It's Shipwatch Week!

by AughtPunk



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Also gonna be writing more of this ship later, BATTLETOAD - Freeform, Dude I have feelings about robots being parents, Eyyyyyyyyy it's CHARITY STREAM TIME AGAIN, F/F, F/M, It's the Anime Beach Episode, M/M, Multi, Oh my gosh, Staring Gay Thoughts, Welcome to my new ship, Zenyatta has feelings about fatherhood, also OC baby deal with it, hello world, so many feelings, this is the first fic in this ship, you read that tag right
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-17
Updated: 2017-07-21
Packaged: 2018-12-03 05:24:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11525439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AughtPunk/pseuds/AughtPunk
Summary: DAY 1 – Fairy Tale - Doomfist/Widowmaker - Widowmaker remembers a piece of her past with the help of her new dance partnerDAY 2 – Domestic - Genji/Mercy/Zenyatta - It's Zenyatta's turn to get their newborn daughter to fall asleepDAY 3 – Beach Day - It's time for Satya's sandcastle building lessons!DAY 4 – Clothing Swap - Who is this mysterious woman running D.Va's charity stream???DAY 5 – Mission - Lucio goes on a mission to find missing pillowsDAY 6 – ProposalDAY 7 – First time





	1. DAY 1 – Fairy Tale - Doomfist/Widowmaker

**Author's Note:**

> FIRST!

Sometimes, but not always, Widowmaker danced while waiting for her orders. The circumstances would have to be perfect, of course. No direct visual contact by her superiors was first and foremost. She was caught dancing once in the beginning and had that entire week erased from her memories. Having enough room to move around was another plus. So she would wait for missions spent hidden away on rooftops far from prying eyes before she risked it.

Her moves were always simple ones ingrained deep into muscle memory. Somehow deep down she knew she could do better, dance better, almost fly across the stage in a way that left audiences speechless. But those moves were always right out of reach with the rest of her clouded past. But every now and then she would lift her leg just so, lower an arm at an odd angle, twirl a little too fast and-

_ Someone was always waiting for her in the wings. Amelie told them not to, that it wasn’t professional, but it never stopped anyone. Usually Gabe, sometimes Jack, very rarely Ana. Once Lena, the new girl, she had shown up with a comically oversized wool coat on in an attempt to keep the weird glowing device on her chest covered as to not distract the dancers. But there was one person she could always count on to be there with a bouquet of roses and a smuggled in bottle of wine. Her darling, her wonderful- _

“-you shoot.”

Widowmaker froze in place, one leg high up in the air, her arms thrown back, and her sniper rifle on the other side of the rooftop. With the grace one of caught red-handed she lowered her leg back down and did a sharp half-turn to face the source of the voice. Well. If there was one good thing about being emotionally dead it was she didn’t look shocked by the fact that Doomfist had snuck up on her.

“Pardon?” She asked in a way that hopefully sounded normal. 

“You dance better than you shoot.” 

Widowmaker stared at Doomfist until he spoke again.

“That...sounded better in my head.” He admitted as he stepped up to her. Doomfist always had the habit of standing a little too close. Windowmaker suspected it was just so everyone had to crane their necks to meet his eyes. “What I meant to say is that the way you dance reflects the work and time you have put into perfecting it.”

“Unlike my sniper skills?” 

“No.” Doomfist said, “those was not earned.”

Without taking her eyes off of his, Widowmaker took Doomfist’s, well, non-doom fist. The look of confusion on his face was worth any risk as she raised his arm high enough to twirl under it. A simple move that she had done a thousand times before in private between kills. But Doomfist brought his hand down to her waist as she spun and-

_ -and she was elsewhere, and she was someone else, and she was falling- _

Doomfist caught her before she hit the concrete rooftop. They were frozen together, his cybernetic fist cupping her waist, his far more normal hand on the back of her head, neither one of them daring to act. It was Doomfist who broke first, lifting Widowmaker back up to her feet. The words ‘are you okay’ were clearly on his lips even if he didn’t say them out loud. 

“I was in the Nutcracker.” Widowmaker said, the words coming out uneasy. “No, not that. I was going to be in the Nutcracker. There was, I had a fight with the director over an omnic dancer. The director wanted an omnic to play the Nutcracker, but then switch him out for a human dancer when he turned human. I said, I said unless the omnic played both roles I would walk and, and the directed ended up sacking the both of us. Afterwards the omnic and I spent all night going to different clubs and dancing together. Ballet dancing! Right in the middle of the dance floor! It, it was fun. Nice.  I forgot about that. I forgot that I...that I cared.”

Doomfist smiled, “I did not think you were such a bleeding heart.”

“Nor did I.” Widowmaker’s said before standing up on her tip-toes enough to give Doomfist a kiss on the cheek, “thanks for the memory, Doomfist.” 

“Akande.” Doomfist said, his voice cracked around the edges. “Akande is fine.”

“Akande.” Widowmaker repeated, “You may call me-”

A shrill beep cut her words off short. The target was in range. Doomfist, no, Akande must have received the same single because he was already scaling down the side of the building to his destination. A professional She liked that. With one last twirl under the moonlight Widowmaker went to pick up her sniper rifle and return to being a mere weapon. 

And, you know, try not to think about how Akande totally blushed when she kissed him. 


	2. DAY 2 – Domestic - Mercy/Genji/Zenyatta

“Hello, world.” 

Zenyatta reached down into the crib and touched the wiggling baby’s cheek. Wren wasn’t crying, but was obviously winding herself up just in case she had to. With gentle hands Zenyatta did a quick Baby Issue Check to see if he could prevent a total meltdown. Genji and Angela had only just gotten back from the mission, and he would hate to have their sleep disturbed so soon. 

“You have been fed already, your diaper does not need to be changed, and I do not detect any drastic changes in temperature. I believe, my beloved, that you are simply fussing because you are bored. You truly are your father’s child.”

She is your daughter as well, Zenyatta reminded himself as he picked the wiggling infant up. He found himself reciting those words more often than his normal prayers these days. No matter how much Genji and Angela reminded him that the three of them were in this together Zenyatta still felt...distance. Like he was one step removed from the child in his hands.

_ His  _ child. His daughter. He was doing it again. 

“You should appreciate these quiet moments, my love,” Zenyatta said as he did his best to cradle Wren in his arms. Was she comfy? Should he go get a blanket? Wren didn’t seem to mind his metal frame. In fact, she was already calming down. “Soon your life will be filled with nothing but loud and confusing friends and family who will fight over getting to hold you. And perhaps a dragon? We are not sure about the dragon.” 

Zenyatta took a seat on the wooden rocking chair Ana had gifted them. ‘You will need it,’ she had warned them. So far he had only seen Angela taking naps in it as Wren slept, but he supposed Ana knew what she was talking about. Wren didn’t seem to care either way if her continued whining noise was anything to go by. He shifted his arms enough so Wren’s head could rest against his chest plate.

“Sometimes,” Zenyatta whispered, “I wonder what Mondatta would think of you. He would love you, of course. And then in the same breath plan on using you as a shining example of Omnic and Human relations in his speeches. Then I would fling one of my orbs at him and he’d dodge and oh, you’ve fallen asleep.” 

Wren had, in fact, fallen asleep against Zenyatta’s chest. Would she wake if he tried to move her? Should babies sleep against not even remotely soft robots? Were there any soft robots out there? A multitude of questions filled Zenyatta’s head, but none were as important as his sensors picking up Wren’s heart beat. 

Somewhere between the tiny beeps Zenyatta slipped into sleep mode and dreamed of gold dragons and his brother standing on a far-off shore.

***

“Psst. Angela. You gotta see this.”

Angela, half asleep and bundled in her fuzzy bathrobe, walked over to her husband as silently as she could. Genji stood in front of Wren’s bedroom with a sparkle in his eyes and in a matching fluffy bathrobe. He waved her to come closer and as soon as she stepped into the doorway Angela saw why: There, sitting on the antique rocking chair, was Zenyatta and Wren fast asleep. The lights on her husband’s forehead blinked perfectly in time with their daughter’s breathing.

Genji wrapped an arm around Angela’s waist and sighed. “I told you that Wren likes him the best.”


	3. DAY 3 – Beach Day - Satya/Fareeha

“First, you must perfect the ratio of sand-to-water. The ideal is one part water to every fifty parts of sand, but that is understandably hard to reach in the micro. Instead keep in mind that you must use far less water than you think you do. Too much and the castle will collapse under its own weight.”

Satya watched as Efi scrambled to take down notes on her waterproof tablet. The young girl’s fingers flew almost as fast as Satya could speak. She waited until Efi stopped typing until she spoke again.

“Of course, the main downfall of most sand castle building is their dependence on buckets. Packing the damp sand into a bucket seems like a good idea to maximize compaction, but the action of overturning the bucket causes far too much structural damage.” 

“I never thought of that!” Efi said with an overly dramatic gasp. “What about the inherent structural instability caused by building moats?” 

“Ah, for that we need to break out a ruler and speak briefly about...water...density….” Satya’s stream of words withered into a trickle and promptly died the second she noticed Fareeha walking towards them. 

Logically Satya knew that they were at the beach. That Efi was next to her, and in the distance the rest of Overwatch was playing a rather dangerous game of volleyball. Yet knowing all of that Satya was almost certain all that existed was Fareeha in a dark blue soaking wet bathing suit that  _ clung _ . It was a good thing that Satya had been kneeling, because she was certain the sight of the layer of drying sand over Fareeha’s legs would have knocked her right over. 

“Hope I’m not interrupting,” Fareeha said as she took a seat next to Satya, “but I wanted to get out of Junkrat’s blast radius.”

“Miss Vaswani was showing me how to make sandcastles!” Efi flipped over her tablet to show the overly ambitious design on the screen. Satya might have commented on the more impossible aspects if it weren’t for the fact her eyes were glued on a drop of seawater running down Fareeha’s neck. 

“I love it!” Fareeha grinned, “but you know, I think your design is missing something important.”

“Really? Because I was planning on using driftwood to help stabilize the larger structures-”

“Decorations!” Before Efi could finish the thought Fareeha shoved a colorful plastic bucket into the young girl’s hands. “How about you and Orisa go find some nice pretty shells for the castle? The best you can find! Um, preferably away from the volleyball game.”

“Great idea! I’ll go get Orisa Miss Vaswani can you watch my tablet I’ll be right back!” Efi jumped up to her feet with bucket in hand and ran off to where the large omnic was sitting in the shade. The second she was off on her quest Satya felt Fareeha’s arm move around her waist. 

“You did that on purpose.” Satya said as she moved Efi’s tablet aside. 

“A castle needs to be decorated,” Fareeha kissed Satya’s shoulder, “with seashells as beautiful as its queen.” 

“And beautiful as her loyal knight?” Satya whispered before meeting Fareeha’s lips with her own. 

In the distance, closer to the volleyball game, there was a minor explosion. Satya didn’t notice at all.


	4. DAY 4 – Clothing Swap - Hana/Sombra

The disguise was the easiest part of Sombra’s plan. First she dyed her hair to the dullest shade of brown she could get on the market. Something which invoked the color of dried mud. Then all she had to do was part her hair down the middle to give the illusion of a normal bob. A little concealer to cover her cybernetics and viola! She looked, dare she say, average? But that wasn’t enough. 

Next came the matter of makeup. Going without might not be enough to hide her identity. No, she needed to put as much distance between her disguise and the skilled makeup artist which was Sombra, master hacker. The answer was simple: She asked Efi to apply the makeup for her. The end result was an absolute disaster of clashing colors and unsteady hands. The perfect look of someone who wanted to look nice but didn’t know how.

The last part, the outfit, was the easiest. Sombra just wore one of Hana’s hoodies. That didn’t require any extra work at all, considering she stole one right after they started dating. Now that she thought about it, stealing each other’s clothes seemed to be a cornerstone of Overwatch. Well, losing a few articles of clothes was a small sacrifice for being on the winning team. Hoodie, bad makeup, and dull hair in place Sombra moved to the final part of her plan.

The part she really didn’t want to do. Was afraid to do. Would never have done in a million years if it wasn’t for Hana’s sake. Sombra thought of her girlfriend as she reached over and turned the computer on. On the screen was the Weekly Charity Chat already in full swing, the video game Hana was playing right before she got sick, and a video feed of Sombra’s own disguised face. The chat hung for a second before exploding in a stream of confused emojis and violent demands for answers. 

The things she did for the woman she loved. 

Sombra took a deep breath to fight down the part of her mind that was screaming for this to stop, that the camera could see her, that so many people could see her, and spoke in the most American accent she could muster.  “Hello! My name is Alice, and I will be filling in for D.Va on this week’s charity stream! I’m sorry she couldn’t make it but she’s sick in bed and under strict orders to rest.”

The chat wavered between death threats and unwanted sexual advances before settling on arguing among themselves if ‘Alice’ was the so-called mysterious girlfriend of myth and legend. Sombra made a mental note to destroy all of their computers later if only for Hana’s sake. “I’m going to be picking up last week’s game. Don’t worry, I’m starting my own save. I know better than to step on someone else’s file. Also because Lilith is a way, way better character than Roland.”

Sombra picked up the controller and focused on the game. Not the chat, not the camera pointed directly on her face, just the game. This was fine. No one knew who she really was. Nobody important was watching. All she had to do was play this antique video game for an hour. Afterwards she could go bring Hana some soup or tea or literally anything that wasn’t soda and chips. She just had to focus on playing. 

Focus on the game. Not the camera. Not the camera not the fact anyone could see her what if they saw her  _ what if they were watching the stream what if they knew what if- _

“Heeeeey Sparkles! Whatcha doing?”

Hana’s arms were around Sombra before she even realized the other woman was out of her bed. Sombra only had a fraction of a second to brace herself before Hana more or less collapsed against her. She could feel heat radiating off of her girlfriend despite the three blankets separating the two of them. 

“Conejo!” Sombra hissed in her normal accent. “Get back to bed!” 

“Nooo,” Hana whined. “I have to do my charity stream. For the kiiiiiiids.”

Sombra looked back at the computer screen. The chat was going too fast to read, only slowed down by the occasional hastily drawn photo of her and Hana kissing. She was honestly shocked that they weren’t no, wait, there was the porn. Hana let out an overly dramatic gasp as she dropped her head on Sombra’s shoulder. “You’re still warm. Go back to bed.”

“Sparkleeeees! You’re doing the stream! That’s, wait, you don’t, um, camera.” Hana shifted her arms around Sombra. “Honey? Are you okay?”

Sombra gripped the controller in her hands tighter. “As you said, it’s for the kids.”

Hana kissed Sombra’s neck, her lips feeling almost red-hot from the fever. Without a care for the thousands of viewers watching them she trailed the kisses up to Sombra’s ear and whispered, “Don’t worry Sparkles, I’ll thank you for your hard work later when there’s no cameras around.”

“And after your fever breaks.” Sombra calmly moved Hana’s hand off her thigh and twisted around enough to give her a kiss on the cheek. “Now go back to bed.” 

“Ugh,  _ fine _ .” Hana stood back up and, after wobbling a bit, pointed straight at the camera. “You all better be nice to my girl while I’m recovering! And donate extra ‘cause she’s just that amazing and beautiful and I think I’m going to go pass out now. G’night y’all.”

Sombra kept an eye on Hana while she stumbled off in the direction of her bed. She waited until the telltale sound of snoring started up before returning to the game. The chat didn’t seem too interested in the game anymore, but Sombra didn’t mind. As long as they were donating that’s all that mattered. And if they didn’t donate then Sombra would have no choice but to hack into their various bank accounts and make them donate. It was for the kids, after all. 


	5. Chapter 5 - Mission - Lúcio/Bastion

All the pillows in the base were missing. 

Well, not the pillows located on people’s beds. But the communal pillows? All gone. Every couch, chair, and secret nap spot was bare. The blankets were gone too. Even Genji Jr, the large pachimari that lived in the main break room was missing. But the weirdest thing of all was the fact that no one seemed to care. No one, cept Lúcio Correia dos Santos. He was a man on a mission. A mission to find missing pillows. Mostly because he had been looking forward to a nice afternoon couch-nap. 

“Right. Gotta think this out,” Lúcio muttered as he paced around the barren couch. “Who on base would need almost two dozen pillows, a bunch of blankets, and Genji’s octopus-onion son? Reinhardt’s big enough to use that many pillows, but he doesn’t use blankets. Mako just sorta sleeps on the ground, same with Jamie. Zarya’s on a mission with Mei, Efi’s helping Torbjorn in the lab, maybe they’re working on a pillow experiment?”

An imagine of a turret that shot pillows fluttered into Lúcio’s mind only to be brushed away. “No no, that’d be terrible in battle. Oh! Jesse could be washing them all at once down in the laundry room! But if he’s in the laundry room then there’s a pretty good chance he and Hanzo are-”

_ “Agent Correia dos Santos? Do you wish to know the location of the pillows?”  _

Lúcio looked up at the vague direction of Athena’s omnipresent voice. “You know where they are?”

_ “Of course, Agent Correia dos Santos. I know where everything and everyone is. And I am sure Agent McCree and Agent Hanzo Shimada do not wish to be interrupted.”  _

“You’re an angel, Athena!” Lúcio grinned. “Hit me!”

_ “Cold.” _

Lúcio’s grin vanished. “What?”

_ “You are currently cold.” _

A bolt of inspiration struck Lúcio and he took a single step forward.

_ “You are less cold than you were before but still relatively cold.” _

Following Athena’s commands Lúcio ran out of the room and down the hall. Then past the kitchen, across the gym, back down another hallway, dangerously close to the laundry room but not too close to hear anything, a quick stop to fist-bump Efi and then finally to the doors leading out to Bastion’s gardens. 

What had once been a barren piece of dirt between buildings had been transformed by Bastion into a small slice of paradise. Part farm, part garden, it was Lúcio’s favorite place to hang out between missions. There was such poetry to the place, to Bastion, to a machine that had gone through so much only to come out the other end with peace in its heart. At that moment all of the flowers were in bloom and the air was filled with their sweet perfume. Also all of the pillows were in a pile next to Bastion’s charging station. 

No, not just the pillows. The blankets were there too. And Genji Jr. All of it was surrounded by some glittery rocks, shined scrap metal, and the occasional piece of silverware. Between all of the shiny objects ran a string of green yarn that had indubitably been pilfered from Reinhardt’s knitting basket. Why, it almost looked as if Bastion had built-

“A nest,” Lúcio said. “It’s a nest.” 

A chorus of panicked beeps got Lúcio to turn around. Bastion was running his way, waving their gun arm and making every sound and whistle they could muster. The noises were almost too much for Lúcio to follow. Worry? Scared? Sad? Lúcio held up his hands as Bastion got near.

“Whoa, slow down buddy! It’s okay! I just wanted to see where all the pillows ran off to!”

Bastion came to a complete stop in front of Lúcio and beeped louder. Understanding Bastion was tricky, but not impossible. Lúcio learned what certain beeps meant, how Bastion expressed themselves in whistles and clicks, all of that. For example that high beep meant bird. A beep whistle was singing bird, which was what Bastion called Lúcio. A beep click was Torbjorn, a beep beep was Lena, and so on and so on. 

Singing bird, beeped Bastion. Singing bird no look singing bird stop!

“It’s okay, it’s okay.” Lúcio reached up and rubbed Bastion’s arm. “I won’t tell anyone about your nest. I promise. But I gotta say, I didn’t know you were into pillows and shiny objects that much! Or the color green.”

Bastion nervously twiddled their fingers around the edge of their gun barrel. Ganymede (two quick whistles) said make nest for mate. Best nest for best mate.

“Oh hoho?” Lúcio nudged Bastion, not caring about hitting his elbow against the hard metal. “Lookin’ to impress a bird, huh? I know how that whole nature thing goes. So who is the lucky bird?”

Bastion hesitated for only a second before placing its hand on top of Lúcio’s. They didn’t beep. They didn’t need to. Lúcio looked up at Bastion’s faceplate. A machine drenched in blood, made of deadly weapons, made a nest in hopes of winning Lúcio over. As if he wasn’t impressed by the omnic already.

“Bastion…” Lúcio twisted his hand around so he could entwine their fingers together. His small hand was engulfed by Bastions’, but he didn’t mind. “I’d be honored to be your songbird. But uh, don’t think any eggs are in our future.” 

From the way Bastion picked Lúcio up and hugged him the omnic didn’t seem to mind at all. 

**Author's Note:**

> Follow my [Tumblr](http://aughtpunk.tumblr.com) for more Overwatch shipping! And don't be afraid to drop a line! I'm lonely! 
> 
> Want to know what happened to Cyber Vale? [Click here!](http://arachnescurse.tumblr.com/post/148519005156/hey-wheres-welcome-to-cyber-vale)
> 
> And check out [My Blog](https://aughtpunk.wordpress.com/) for updates and original fiction!


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